


Anticipation

by LegendofMajora



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 02:11:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4461338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegendofMajora/pseuds/LegendofMajora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last text Izaya received from Shizu-chan was three hours ago. Surely he's waiting up for something other than disappointment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anticipation

[Thursday, 30/07/XX, 17:07: Shizu-chan: I'm on my way.]

That was three hours ago. Three hours of Izaya waiting for his somewhat unexpected guest to arrive and entertain his rapidly-growing boredom. Now as it starts to storm outside, complete with the rumble of thunder over the snap of lightning covering his windows, Izaya feels his mood dampen considerably with the silence from his phone.

It's not as if he's expecting anything else to show up. No, no plans for tonight after Namie lets herself out as Izaya's urging to take an early day. She spouts some nonsense about suspicious behaviors and Izaya shoos her off with the threat of another rant she'll be forced to listen to. As if prolonging her fate is better instead of facing it she leaves, growling obscene comments about her employer Izaya tends not to hear. After all, if he does, it could mean quite the cut in pay.

With the monitor burning in his eyes, Izaya rubs them again, feeling the sting of the skin on his second knuckles splitting. His hands are considerably dry after not getting up much today, forgetting to drink the water and coffee placed on his desk with the insistence to do so. The sudden dry air in the recent storm doesn't make much sense; neither does Shizu-chan suddenly finding himself missing.

There has to be a reason. Izaya carefully pops his fingers by clenching them into a fist, mindful of the new splits starting to bead with red drops caught in the light of his computer screen. As dark as it is outside he closes his eyes only to have the burn of brightly-colored shapes stamped on his eyelids. They only contribute to tenure of a slowly-forming headache, much more malevolent than the outside clash of storm clouds. Perhaps he should've at least drank something earlier, feeling the side effects of dehydration starting to kick in with a taunting sting of blinking away the watery reaction to the burn in his eyes.

For once in a rare while, Izaya doesn't feel like doing much of anything. Not from the _disappointment_ (using that word lightly) of Shizu-chan's sudden absence. More likely caused by the storm outside, coating the world his humans live in with a shadowy veil and cold rain to keep his humans obscured from his eyes. A rare set of headlights sometimes makes itself known from the windows of his highrise apartment, playing against water and reflecting against buildings as rainwater starts to slosh and flood the streets.

Outside could be called a reflection of himself, if he had time to spare for dramatics and romanticizing weather patterns. Bleak, obscure, and cornered sharply with the edge of thunder crackling overhead. Lightning keeps him presently aware of the storm, strong and blinding as it makes its way through his windows and floods his apartment. Otherwise it would be all too easily to ignore the rain, common in Tokyo and unheard of for Izaya to spend his time listening to it instead of doing something more productive.

Like answering the same email he has been staring at for the past half of an hour.

Izaya cradles his head in a hand, blinking with the threat of fatigue setting into the slits of watching the world outside his window. His phone lies on his thigh, undisturbed for a record time set in finding himself waiting for a reply. All others have gone off in the meantime, ones for work and other matters which he finds himself entirely disinterested in so much so they compare to the cold cup of coffee on his desk that was meant to be breakfast.

It's a rare day he finds his beloved humans failing to hold his interest. Not even the call of work, maybe messing around with a few clients from the false security of a keyboard and enough intelligence to hold his own, does anything to soothe the tedium setting in with the silence of his apartment.

He considers it again, just to make sure that Shizu-chan hasn't _forgotten_ anything like he does, being typically absent-minded and with as brutish as he is, Izaya wouldn't bother to think twice. Calling Shizuo would be an admission of his own curiosity, some untamed heated pulse at his temples to call attention to the lack of any communication from the beast. Even with the throb of his headache setting in and the burn of unequal distribution of heat in his body, he isn't all that tempted to press the number for Shizu-chan's speed dial just because he finds himself with nothing to do.

Which makes more sense, realistically, with the countless times he's picked up his phone or unlocked the screen, just to confirm that there's nothing waiting for him. Pressing issues don't exist and whatever he's expecting may as well be silenced with the solid physical evidence of _nothing_ to back him up.

His eyes flicker, seconds before the brightness of his phone lightens up under his fingers and disappointing with the lack of anything new. If anything, the sudden heated press of the monitor's screen power button might have something to do with feeling a little more than just irked. Annoyed, more like it, as he sits in the darkness with the furrow developing in his brow with distaste.

Huffing in contempt with the boredom-fueled headache, Izaya deposits his phone on his desk as he stands suddenly, regretting it in the succession of quick cracks down his spine to remind him what he's been doing all day. With his apartment bathed in darkness after shutting off the lights some time ago to watch the lightning show outside, it doesn't do any good to dampen his mood with it being he's too stubborn to give in to his interest in Shizuo.

Izaya pads over to the kitchen, slippers on his feet quietly scuffing along the hardwood flooring as he reaches for a glass, filling it from the refrigerator without any ice. After convincing himself it's good for him he swallows down the entire thing, aggravating the dull buzz with the sudden introduction of cold. Another glass from the refrigerator reminds him he shouldn't be so careless with his own health, regardless of the weather outside and the unnatural quiet of his phone.

The lifeless flop of the rabbit ears on his slippers distracts him momentarily, reclining as he lifts his feet up and glances at the marble eyes on them, dead and dull with artificial coloring. At least they're warm and soft enough to keep, as well as being an incentive for Namie to finish her work faster when he lifts a foot in her presence.

The black fur is warm under his feet, having been worn all day and he isn't even dressed appropriately for what could be called a casual workday. Namie says nothing of this, having witnessed days like this far too many times before and if she's said anything then Izaya hasn't really paid attention—anything important is usually sparse, coming from his snappy secretary with no sense of humor. The slippers, however, are incentive for her to quit ranting on his lack of productivity and go with the fact he's getting work done in a sweatshirt and shorts.

It still won't do anything for the slide of his phone back into his fingers, warm metal and irritating brightness once again in the reminder that Shizuo hasn't said a word and Izaya is annoyed at this. Having already spent the day working at a more mundane level is enough to grate his nerves. Namely, when all it takes is the lack of usual back and forth banter expected from the monster. Added to the self-imposed last three days of isolation in order to get more work done in expecting an increase in opportunities, the chance of acknowledging the backfire is slim to none. Simply because it's still Shizu-chan's fault.

The clock creeps past the time marker of four hours from the last message on his phone. Izaya holds in the disdain after a thoughtless grind of his teeth clicking together, reminding himself to drink from the cup beside him and chase away the dryness cracking in his knuckles. Outside is still cold and wet, thunder rumbling as it gets louder with how close the storm approaches, lightning streaks in grisly flashes ripping through clouds.

His phone flashes in his hands under a thoughtless brush of his fingers over the screen, reminding him exactly of how pointless it is to wait for something useless. Like any indication from Shizu-chan is supposed to alleviate the frustration Namie calls "pining over your boyfriend like an incompetent high schooler" before she's abruptly reminded of the deadened stare of rabbit slippers. It keeps her grumbling under her breath, but still quiet enough to let him think.

Quiet overcomes the room, echoing in the rolling blows of thunder increasing in frequency. The rest of him has gone eerily still, eyes closing against the flashes of lightning white-hot as they sear the drowsy reflexes of turning away from his window. If it's meant to anger him or bother him then it's useless, as much as waiting on an answer he won't be getting no matter how long he spends sitting here counting seconds ticking by.

It's completely unlike him to sit and wait. The motto he lives by is getting something if it doesn't come to him, and it doesn't sit well recalling that the blame for Shizuo's disappearance keeps shifting with every angle he puts it at. Not back to him, but dangerously close.

And in the same insufferable silence stripped by thunder, he loses track of time. It isn't after a longer while of waiting he finds his head moved to his arms, folded on top of his desk where papers have been messily pushed away for an impromptu moment of trying to forget the headache starting to build and grow behind his eyes.

Two hours later, the thunder hides the sound of his door rattling to the point of breaking. No, he's just imagining it in some strange daydream when he hasn't dragged himself to bed yet.

"Open up, flea!" Nope, not imagining it. But before he has time to even raise his head and pull himself together the knocks start up again, three heavy raps against his door just threatening to break the entrance in what could only be the restrained strength of a certain missing monster. Except as he moves, rubbing at his eyes and forehead to try and get himself to wake up from the fatigued state imposed by his headache, he hears the scrape of a key and locks clicking before he can make it past his desk.

"...D'you really have to be so damn slow?" Shizuo steps in, clad in his usual attire and soaked to the bone while he pulls off his shoes. Izaya quickens his pace, confused to find the beast standing in his doorway, pocketing a spare key and shutting the door with a huff behind himself before he turns back to face Izaya, still silent and slightly wide-eyed. "Oi, quit staring and help me get out of this before it gets ruined."

"I wasn't expecting you, Shizu-chan," Izaya quips, fingers going to the vest where he notices his beast's fingers trembling, messing with the top button that has yet to come off. He scowls when Izaya pushes his hands away unbuttoning each with much more precision than Shizu-chan has in half the time it would take if Shizuo bothered trying for himself.

His wet fingers tug at his bowtie, untying it to pull the soggy fabric from his neck with a cringe. "Tom-san wanted to finish up with a couple more guys after I messaged you, but I lost my damn phone so I couldn't tell you I'd be late." Shizuo can tell by the calculating unbuttoning of his shirt reflected in the narrowing of Izaya's eyes that showing up unannounced isn't exactly the best way to surprise him. "Some bastard tried to run off, I tripped and fell and I don't know where the damn thing went."

Izaya doesn't appear to pay any attention to this, finishing the last of the buttons on the soaking shirt that clings to Shizuo a bit too well for comfort. His fingers are still shaking and he feels miserable with being drenched in an icy cold chill, but Izaya's silence is a different kind of poison altogether.

"Izaya," grabbing the informant's hands before he can walk off or make some snarky remark, Shizuo uses his other hand to wrap it around his boyfriend's waist and pull him close for a cold, wet kiss. _That_ gets him going, struggling to get away the longer Shizuo keeps him there and steals all the heat he has to offer.

"Go take a shower," Izaya rolls his eyes with a snort, pushing himself away and shaking his head. "Or you'll catch a cold, Shizu-chan." He's not about to let Shizuo catch him again and make him share the affliction of being drenched, stepping out of the way while Shizuo collects his clothes in one hand. With the silence that follows to turn Izaya back to Shizuo, blue shades cover a questionable look in his eyes folding as the blond pulls them off, carefully placing them on top of his clothes.

"Don't feel like it," Shizuo decides, regardless of the fact he's possibly shaking and it's a good thing the lights aren't on for Izaya to judge whether or not this stands to be true. As cold as he is, taking a shower wouldn't do much to alleviate the stuffy feeling of being out in the rain for too long with the stench of ozone still in his nose. He'd rather just grab a change of clothes from Izaya's drawer, kept for him whenever he spends the night and just stay with him and all the luxurious blankets Izaya keeps because of him.

"Shizu-chan," it's inevitable as Shizuo steals another kiss from him, wet and uncomfortably freezing with the unnoticed tint of blue in Shizuo's lips as they move against his in a soft slide of melting from the little heat Izaya provides. Any protest dies out because he's selfish enough to let it go for now, arms wrapping around him and pulling him to a bare chest with cold skin starting to seep through his sweatshirt.

"Shizu-chan," he tries again, squirming but his hands still crawl up to the brute's broad shoulders, hooking himself there with some element missing in explaining the reasoning of doing this. But Shizuo's foolishness is contagious, so it seems, never stopping when Shizuo's still holding onto him without any intention of letting go despite the wetness dripping from his hair. The chilling trails it leaves on Izaya's collarbone are more than enough to start squirming once again, loosening his hold on Shizuo as his sweatshirt starts to get soaked.

"Ne, ne, go dry yourself off and stop getting me wet," Izaya tsks, pulling himself away after one last cling of lips and turning his head so Shizu-chan can't get any more. He's never liked these sorts of things, no matter how good they feel in relation to his dampened pride. "And don't get my apartment wet. Namie just cleaned the floors and I'd rather not pay her for extra work."

Shizuo laughs, low and rumbling in his throat the same way it makes its shivering path down Izaya's spine. "Cheapskate," he excuses himself with Izaya's hardened stare urging him to go change. All the while up the soggy and squelching trail of conquering the stair case, Izaya watches him retreat to his bedroom, becoming more of theirs with the more recent visits Shizu-chan makes.

In the seconds ticking by where Shizuo isn't around to cloud his thoughts and remind him of how cold he is, Izaya turns back to his desk, annoyed now with being cold basking over the quieter part of him with the reassurance that he's been right all along. Of course he always is, pointless to disagree with that. But as he brings mugs of coffee and glasses of water to the sink he fingers his phone sitting in his pocket, absentmindedly betraying his own intentions.

And by downing the last glass of water he decides to throw in the sink with the other dishes, Shizuo makes his way down the stairs with the soft creaks under his feet, dry now with a towel hanging off his neck and a loose change of clothes, sticking to where his hair drips. What's more interesting is the large blanket balled in Shizuo's arm and tucked against his side, one big white one that Izaya remembers seeing before.

"Oi, quit staring and get over here." Shizuo gestures with his chin to the couch, plopping down like a child and Izaya watches as he carelessly untangles the blanket, throwing it over himself and wrapping it around his shoulders. Just like the big child he is, marked by the complete lack of caring that Izaya would rather not feel the chill lingering on his skin. It's easy to see the paler color of Shizuo's skin, washed away by rainwater and the thick clouds still keeping Tokyo captive for the night.

"Shizu-chan is such a child," Izaya coos, still finding his way over to the couch where Shizuo decides he can sit near the arm, right before he tries to steal another kiss. Only this time freezing lips hit Izaya's throat as he turns away, forcing a shudder that Shizuo basks in far too much for murmuring a half-assed apology for.

"What, no kiss?" Izaya turns away yet again to the protozoan's stubborn pull of a pout, trying and failing to hide the occasional shiver that ripples through his skin underneath the blanket. But they find their way to Izaya, turning him toward a different path of thought instead of lingering on the missing cell phone.

"You're freezing," Izaya grumbles, never attempting to push away his boyfriend who covers him easily, head resting on his shoulder with wet hair. "And you smell like a wet dog, don't complain."

"Asshole," relenting in trying to kiss Izaya altogether his lips rest just barely above Izaya's skin, exactly where Izaya can feel the gooseflesh rising in response and having to turn his head away to conceal the color spreading on his face. But at least the brute doesn't even try, probably stealing the heat from the flush creeping up Izaya's throat as the beast keeps himself draped over Izaya, blanket falling over him and spilling over the couch.

"You are horrible at apologizing, Shizu-chan." What for, Shizuo already knows. He knows it by the flush under his lips he can feel and the fingers still interlocking in his hand when he finds it and invades Izaya's sweatshirt pocket.

"What," Shizuo scoffs, licking a stripe of pimpled flesh just for the effect of making Izaya squirm, "you want an apology now? Since when did you take apologies? Or need them?" Even if Izaya doesn't reply Shizuo has his fun in the huff that comes from his boyfriend's lips, soaking in warmth from the blanket over him and the barely noticeable trail of fingers over his hand.

But as he starts to warm up and the shivers start to subside, his eyelids keep growing heavier with the offer of sleeping right here. It doesn't really matter where, but Izaya's lap is as comfortable as it is welcoming, prompting the careful slide off his shoulder and into the makeshift pillow that becomes thick layers of blanket over Izaya's skinny legs. He thinks he hears Izaya say something, unimportant at best because it still has a bite to it that's too light to be real by the time his eyes are closing and the rest of the world fades.

In dark, hazy warmth washing over him, it's too easy to fall asleep.

As his breathing settles, Izaya listens to the soft sounds evening out, fingers emerge from his other pocket, one hand trapped in Shizuo's. His fingers comb over the wet mop of Shizuo's hair, gently untangling the snags that catch. In repetitive strokes he's already leaving wet imprints on the cuff of his sweatshirt, mindlessly counting the breaths in cycles of inhales and nearly silent exhales.

There are a lot of things he was going to say, an argument to pick at with Shizuo being late without a phone. Though if he brings it up he risks himself for revealing more than he wants—Shizu-chan is far too observant at times—and he'd rather not put himself in that position. Instead, he finds himself reclining on his couch in the darkness of his apartment, thunder crackling overhead and Shizuo's head resting in his lap. And the rest of the argument remains quietly dissipating in the back of his mind, blaming fatigue for the reason he doesn't have the will to argue.

As Shizuo's hair dries Izaya finds himself dozing off, darkness seeping into the corners of his eyes while he focuses on brushing his fingers through Shizu-chan's hair while he sleeps, unaware of how Izaya watches him from above. It's not a sharp gaze for once, not as Izaya finds himself lacking logic to make reasonable decisions when he leans down, lips grazing over a pale cheek while Shizuo sleeps on. The frustration of not knowing where Shizu-chan was and why he wasn't answering fuels him to take what he wants, arguably silent as he feuds over annoyance and the fact he'll have to get the brute a new cell phone so it doesn't happen again.

Besides, he would rather keep his apartment free of heavy rainwater and one too many kisses while drenched and dirty.

It still doesn't stop the next touch of lips, to the corner of Shizuo's mouth and then another on an eyelid, fingers still working their way through hair as it dries. Another kiss finds Shizuo's earlobe, down to his jaw and making absolutely _sure_ Shizu-chan is not awake. Just imagining Shizu-chan finding out makes him shudder, quelling it with the press of his shoulders against the back of the couch and sweeping his lips along the beast's brow.

And it's all going according to whatever revenge Izaya thinks is working, up until he fails to notice the change in breathing from his lap. It's only moments before the lips at the corner of his boyfriend's mouth move suddenly, unpredictable with the slide of Shizuo's head and lips connecting to his before he can realize he failed to notice this could happen.

As much as Izaya hates kissing—it's all for show, Shizuo discovers because Izaya can be coy when he doesn't know how to figure out something like this. And it's all adorable and stupidly cute, watching Izaya's eyebrows knit together when Shizuo pulls him down by the nape of his neck with a free hand. He doesn't need to anchor him there, tentatively moving lips against Izaya's more reluctant ones and he doesn't bother keeping his eyes open for long, just as slits in between darkness and shadows.

Eventually Izaya starts to move against him, dry lips still warmer than Shizuo's for a rare one time occurrence. He feels tired, unwilling to resist when Shizuo breaks the kiss to make his way down Izaya's jaw, his fingers rubbing circles into Izaya's skin just below his hairline. And yeah, maybe it's best not to say anything like being aware through part of the kisses so unexpectedly given to him, dozing in his boyfriend's lap and finding no will to wake up until he realizes he's being kissed.

So he'll return the favor, kissing his way back to Izaya's lips in one short, slow cling of lips before he lets go. Izaya's much warmer than he is now, probably basking in the glory of being able to hide his face in the darkness where Shizuo can't have an edge over him. It's too bad he can't come to terms with it yet, but Shizuo knows Izaya will, though for now he settles with being content that Izaya even lets him kiss him.

The fatigue may be to blame. "I'm going to bed," Izaya huffs, lacking usual bitterness and more of an extinguished sigh. "If you're coming with me, get off. If not, get off." And there it is, his usual cut to the chase way of doing things. A smile tugs at the corners of Shizuo's lips, lifting his head up from the flea that starts to squirm and now notices the difference of not having a hand in his hair.

Oh well, he supposes it's better to give Izaya something in return for trying so hard.

In one quick movement of his feet to the floor and his weight thrown on top of them, he's up with a blanket wrapped around him and Izaya soon follows, picked off the couch before he can dart away. And since the informant is so tiny he can slide easily up against Shizuo's chest, head on his shoulder and kicking his slipper-covered feet in attempting protest.

"Bunny slippers...?" Shizuo notes them as he starts walking, tightening his grip on Izaya to make sure he doesn't squirm his way into falling. Izaya turns his head to look at him once, eyes glittering in the darkness in a mix of annoyance and plenty of other things to keep his ire burning. With one wiggle of a foot he confirms his suspicions, starts up the steps to notice the flop of bunny ears before the head of one turns to him and stare at him with a glossy-eyed deadened gaze.

It's certainly off putting, to say the least.

"Weird flea," Shizuo snorts, words going through Izaya's hair as they reach the top and his lips are resting on the top of Izaya's head. Adjusting him means carefully maneuvering to open the door to the bedroom, balancing a blanket, Izaya, and not getting kicked in the leg for his supposed insolence.

"You're an idiot," Izaya growls, low and quiet as he finds himself slipping onto the bed and no will to care whether or not Shizu-chan's weight covers him, blanket wrapping around them even if there are sheets right beneath him.

"Your idiot," Shizuo says, but Izaya's already asleep by the time his head drops to the pillows, surrounded by heat and wrapped up in Shizuo. And by the time Shizuo pulls away from one last kiss as Izaya becomes less responsive, he follows the same motion, too tired to find full amusement in the dedication of a flea to stay up too late.

All for him. "Shut up, Shizu..." and he buries his laugh in Izaya's shoulder, turning to make a pillow out of the rotten flea.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm alive, somewhat, don't mind me. Just rewriting things and whatnot, working on new styles and all that jazz. I can't believe it's been twenty days since I posted anything, and then I just faded into the background before Mama Shizuwan kicked my ass back into gear and made me get this done. Ah, what a strange July it's been...
> 
> Thank you for reading. ꒒ ০ ⌵ ୧ ♡


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